


i'm here, akaashi.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Light Angst, M/M, Men Crying, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: fukurodani loses the interhighs, and akaashi is forced to watch through a screen as bokuto collapses on the gym floor.[ i.e. the sick fic that doesn't go like other sic fics. ]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67





	i'm here, akaashi.

**Author's Note:**

> bokuaka week - day 7

Akaashi was on the edge of his bed, computer screen glaring back at him in the darkness of the room. On the screen, the shapes of people moving took over the screen, loud commentary blaring through the speakers of his computer. His eyes were screwed up, squinting as he tried to see the screen through the blurriness of his vision, blinking several times in concentration. 

“You see here, their ace Bokuto Koutarou is coming in for the spike,” one of the commenters said, voice shining with anticipation. “He’s one of the top spikers of the country, just shy from the top three. As we see here, he’s taking a running start and—!”

Akaashi’s eyes dragged to Bokuto, laser focused. His gaze on the ball was immaculate, form perfect as he launched himself in the air, muscles rippling as he posed to hit the ball with all his might, and—

“And it’s a missed spike!” the commentator groaned, disappointment evident in his voice. “Unfortunately, regular setter Akaashi Keiji, known for his perfect performance with the school’s ace, was not able to attend the match today and Fukurodani Academy was forced to swap in another setter—”

Akaashi didn’t hear the rest of it as he watched the first year setter bow and apologize to Bokuto in a profuse tone, Bokuto simply waving it off and patting his back, shouting words of encouragement towards the remorseful setter.

As they walked back into their starting positions, Akaashi grimaced. The ball, two balls too short, hadn’t been set the way Bokuto was used to. It wasn’t the high-up toss he’d always sent Bokuto when they were in the pinch, the strength of the setter nowhere near what Bokuto was used to. It wasn’t the powerful toss of the ball, or the comfortable height that Akaashi had always added to the ball to compensate for the height difference between him and Bokuto when he jumped. Too short, to weak, too unbalanced—

“And Nohebi begins with a powerful serve from their captain, Daishou Suguru!” the commentator enthused. Akaashi watched as the ball came, hitting the outstretched hands of the first year setter directly.

“First contact was with their substitute setter!” the commentator spoke, gaze laser focused as he watched the match. “Unfortunately, this means that Fukurodani’s attack will be nowhere near as powerful as they usually make their attacks! Though it was a rookie mistake, it seems that Fukurodani is quickly recovering from it with a set from Konoha—”

Akaashi watched as his senior set the ball towards Bokuto, hands shaky from lack of practice tossing. Bokuto, bunching his muscles before he jumped, flung his hand back, raising it up to spike the ball—

“And a spike from ace Bokuto Koutarou!” the commentator cheered. Akaashi’s heart dropped in relief as it hit the other side of the court without a receive, a resounding cheer coming from the Fukurodani cheering section as Bokuto raised his arms in triumph, quickly working up the crowd that had gathered to support them.

“And that brings Fukurodani to eighteen points against Nohebi,” a female commentator continued, punctuated by a nod of agreement from the male commentator. “However, since Nohebi won the previous set against the powerhouse school, Fukurodani is definitely under much more pressure than Nohebi is.”

Akaashi, Fukurodani jacket now around his shoulders, fingers intertwined against themselves as he picked at his nails, bit his lips, staring at the screen in anxiety. Towards the center of the court, the points were flashed brightly in red, discomfort rising in Akaashi as he read it over and over again.

23 to 18.

“And so we begin with a serve from Konoha, who set the ball in the previous rally,” the commentator continued. “It seems that Konoha, as a third year, has increased game sense. As you see, he’s quickly serving it in the path of the setter, but—”

As quickly as the commentator had said it, another person came in front of the setter, receiving the ball instead of him. Rapidly, the setter bolted, positioning himself under the trajectory of the received ball, hands already outstretched to set it, eyes focused on the captain.

Daishou was already beginning to run up towards the net, legs tense as he bunched them up in preparation to jump, eyes snakelike as the set came towards him.

“And the ball goes towards captain Daishou—”

Before the commentator could even finish his words, resounding cheers came from the Nohebi section of the gymnasium, drowning out anything else the commentator said into the microphone. 

“And Nohebi Academy scores!” the announcers enthused. “That brings them to set point in this match, currently a full six points away from Fukurodani Academy. This is quite impressive, considering that Fukurodani has made it to nationals two dozen times, and the previous year was their sixth consecutive time attending.”

Akaashi’s hands trembled as they gripped against each other even more tightly.

“Come on!” Bokuto cheers, a smile still on his face despite the beads of exertion that was rolling down his face, staining his jersey. “The game isn’t over yet!”

Konoha opened his mouth, but any words he said were quickly drowned out in the cheering of the two sets of spectators.

“And the next rally begins! Again, captain Suguru Daishou begins with his serve…”

Akaashi watched as Daishou tossed the ball into the air, jumping neatly before slamming his palm across the ball, sending it richoting towards the other side of the court, rippling straight towards Bokuto.

Without hesitation, Bokuto received the ball, sending it directly towards their first year substitute setter. Filled with nervousness, he positioned himself below the ball, hands positioned up to set it. 

“Toss to me!” Bokuto called out, loud voice reverberating throughout the court.

With a gulp, the setter touched the ball, tossing it up, and—

“It’s short!” the announcer yelled, a gasp coming from the female. “The set seemed several balls too short, but Bokuto-kun has already jumped into the air. Will this be a major save, or will Fukurodani Academy—”

The only answer needed to the announcer’s unasked question was the reverberating thud of the ball on the court.

Silence filled the court, long moments droning into Akaashi’s ears. He could only hear ringing as he watched the court, the third years diving to receive the ball, only landing several centimeters short of where the ball had landed. He watched as Daishou, standing above them, looked down as the flattened forms of the third years, their fists gripped into fists as the bouncing of the volleyball continued, the sound of contact only growing louder and louder in his ears…

A whistle.

“And Nohebi Academy is the victor of this match!”

Akaashi heard nothing as his eyes burned.

He heard nothing as he watched his teammates collapse on the ground, exertion evident, eyes distant as they watched the opposition pile into a team group hug, the mouths of the Nohebi supporters shaped into wide O’s in cheers that Akaashi couldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear anything through the ringing of his ears, through the demons screaming in his head as he looked at his trembling fingers.

He watched as his fingers trembled, shook, hot tears running down his face and dripping into his hands, knives of regret slashing at his heart. He could only watch as it all happened all at once, skin burning, as if acid had been poured on him, regret the only thing washing over him, settling in him.

And he watched as the camera panned onto Bokuto, the only member on the team left standing. He watched as Bokuto stared at Nohebi, still celebrating their win. His golden eyes, distant, lost, unlike anything that Akaashi had ever seen in him. They weren’t the depressed, overly emotional eyes he’d seen in him too many times during practice.

They were lost.

And those golden eyes remained lost as Bokuto’s legs crumpled up beneath him, and their captain collapsed onto the ground.  
  


* * *

  
  
Akaashi trembled.

He trembled under the covers that he pulled close to him. He could barely feel the hot tears against his cheeks anymore, the pain completely numb to him as he pulled the sheets closer and closer to him, darkness overwhelming him completely. He could see nothing. He could sense nothing.

He could feel nothing.

Then, in the silence, the silent creak of a doorknob, the tentative, gentle steps of someone he knew too well. From the upended corner of his blanket, he could sense the light streaming in through the cracks, yet he made no move to see more of it.

After all, he could feel nothing.

“Akaashi?” a gentle voice broke into the silence, a gentle whisper. “Hey, Akaashi?”

Without his prompting nor reply, gentle hands removed the blanket from over him, slow. Light began to stream into his eyes, stinging him as he blinked them, harshness piercing him.

In front of him stood a boy he knew all too well. Familiar unwaxed black and white locks, an oversized jacket he was all too fond of wearing. He smelled of freshly washed hair and shampoo, gentle scent covering him as he stared at Akaashi, golden eyes gentle, the tentative movements of fingers against his own skin soft.

“How did,” Akaashi whispered, voice hoarse from unuse, “come in?”

“Your mom let me in,” he replied, voice gentle as he seated himself on Akaashi’s bed, pulling his legs onto the sheets, unmoving as he rested them against the crumpled white. “She told me you were here.”

Bokuto’s eyes shifted, glancing towards Akaashi’s still glaring computer screen. It was all he needed to understand.

“Akaashi, don’t—”

“Please don’t continue that… sentence,” Akaahi murmured, voice strained. “It is my fault that we lost today. I shouldn’t have put that much pressure on him, you can’t expect him to play setter so suddenly when—”

“Akaashi, it’s not your fault,” Bokuto mumbled, rough, calloused fingers gentle as he took Akaashi’s hand into his own. “Everyone gets sick some day. It wasn’t your fault that you came with a fever; if anything, it would’ve been worse if you forced yourself to—”

“But it was my fault, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbled, looking up at Bokuto for the first time since he had uttered. “It’s my fault that I stayed up too late for that goddamn biology test, and the chemistry test, and the math test after that. I should’ve slept earlier, I shouldn’t have pulled an all nighter, I shouldn’t have fallen sick—”

Akaashi’s next sentences were a jumble of strangled words as hot tears found their way to his cheeks again, pouring down them relentlessly. They trailed his tender skin, already reddened from the previous onslaught. As they found their way to his chin, they dripped, wet marks forming on his shirt.

“It’s still not your fault,” Bokuto murmured. “It’s not your fault that we lost.”

“But—”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured.

He didn’t say anything else, pulling him close instead, closing the space between them as he brought Akaashi into a gentle hug, arms careful as he wrapped them around Akaashi, barely brushing his skin. Akaashi sunk into the warmth, grabbing Bokuto’s jacket, fingers tightening around them as he pulled the warmth closer towards him, the tears trailing down his cheeks falling in wet splotches onto the jacket.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” Bokuto mumbled. “It’s just the interhigh, we still have the spring qualifiers in a few months. It doesn’t end here, Akaashi.”

“But what if we won against Nohebi?” Akaashi mumbled, gripping Bokuto tight. “What if we could’ve gotten a better advantage for the team when Spring comes?”

“Akaashi—”

“What if we lose _one_ match next Spring, and everything falls apart?”

“Please—”

“ _I don’t want it all to fall apart._ ”

The stabbing pain came back to Akaashi, teeth clenched tightly as he held onto Bokuto. The tears were still streaming down his face, relentless as he buried himself into Bokuto’s shoulder, surroundings darkened around him.

_What if we lose?_

“We won’t lose just like that, Akaashi,” Bokuto whispered, lifting Akaashi away from his shoulder, cradling his face gently into his hands. “Spring hasn’t come yet.”

“But when it does—”

“And when it does,” Bokuto corrected, dragging a thumb across Akaashi’s face, wiping the trails of salty tears, “we’ll _win._ ”

Akaashi scoffed, voice pained. “How can you say that for sure, Bokuto-san?”

“Hm?”

“How can you say that we’ll win so easily?” Akaashi mumbled, hand on Bokuto’s, softly dragging across the rough skin. “How can you say it so confidently, like we won’t lose in the qualifiers? How can you be so sure that we’ll make it through?”

Bokuto paused, quiet as he considered Akaashi’s words in silence.

“See?” Akaashi mumbled, pulling away. “You can’t—”

“I can say that with confidence because I believe that you can bring us through, Akaashi.”

Bokuto’s hand caressed his cheek again, gently holding it.

“Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” Akaashi spoke, lips pressed into a forced smile. “Don’t say things like that just to cheer me up.”

“I can’t say the truth?” Bokuto smiled, eyes shimmering under the light, tears glistening in his eyes. “I believe you’ll bring us to nationals.”

“That’s a lie, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi pushed. “Everyone knows you’re the reason why we’ve made it to nationals so many years in a row, Bokuto-san; there’s no denying it.”

“We’ve never made it through so easily,” Bokuto murmured. “Until you showed up and set for me.”

For a moment, Akaashi saw Bokuto, second year, alone in the gym as he tossed the volleyball against the wall, alone. He watched himself, first year, approach Bokuto, bowing towards him in an offer to set the ball for him. A wide smile, a grin with teeth, and the passing of a yellow and blue volleyball.

And the biggest glow Akaashi would ever see in his life.

“So it’s not your fault, okay?” Bokuto mumbled, hugging Akaashi close.

Akaashi’s head rested on the crook of Bokuto’s shoulder, sighing as they gently toppled over to their sides, laying on their sides against the soft, crumpled sheets. 

Bokuto trailed his fingers over Akaashi’s face, brushing gently against his skin. His fingers dragged over his cheekbones, his lips, his forehead, resting gently against his jaw. He murmured words Akaashi could barely even process in his head through the gentle tears running down his cheeks, pulling Akaashi closer and closer to him, engulfing him in comfortable warmth.

And they stayed, embraced in a tangle of limbs and sheets, tied in warmth.

As Akaashi’s eyes began to shut, head gently tipping forwards in the exhaustion that consumed him, Bokuto shifted, pulling the sheets over the two of them.

And with the gentleness of the wind, he gently pressed his lips on his forehead, and whispered.

“I’m here, Akaashi.

_It’s all going to be okay._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a kudos and comment! <3


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